


Blank Sheet

by speakingwosound (sev313)



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Canon, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, White House Era (Crooked Media RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 20:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/pseuds/speakingwosound
Summary: Dan nudges Jon’s foot with his knee and plays his part. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”





	Blank Sheet

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the anonymous prompter who gave me this run away prompt meme prompt! This takes place in a WH-era Davs verse where Jon needs Dan's help, sometimes, to pull himself out of his own head. I might add to it, from time to time.

The door clicks red and Dan sighs, throwing his suit jacket over his shoulder and leaning wearily against the wall to swipe again, and again, until it finally blinks green. “Finally,” he mutters, using his shoulder to push the door open.

The room is dark, the blinds pulled closed tightly against the lamp light from the parking lot below. He makes a note to thank advance for the foresight to close them when they’d dumped his suitcase earlier that afternoon, when he’d still been twelve hours, two memos, a senior staff meeting, and a call with the Turkish President away from his bed.

He’s never been more grateful that all he has to do is toe off his shoes, loosen his tie enough to pull it over his head, and fall face-first into four hours of uninterrupted sleep before he has to get up and do it all over again, in Buenos Aires or Bogata or wherever Alyssa tells Air Force One to take them next. Dan’s stopped asking.

Dan discards his jacket over the edge of the dresser and reaches for his Blackberry for one last check, his eyes crunchy and aching with exhaustion. He’s swearing over an email from his Colombian counterpart when he steps up to the bed, gravity already pulling him face down into the mattress, when he’s stopped by something hard and warm and very much alive.

“What the fuck?” He reaches over to flick on the light. “Favreau?”

Jon’s star-fished across Dan’s bed, covered in nothing but a thin sheet that hides nothing. Dan’s eyes rake over him, taking in the dip of the sheet between Jon’s ass cheeks, the muscles of his shoulders pulling the sheet taught, the slight openness of his lips as he snores, light and quiet, into Dan’s pillow. 

Dan drops his Blackberry onto the bedside table as blood rushes south, all thoughts of sleep replaced by the image of Jon, embarrassed and flushed and probably with a story so flimsy that Dan will hear all about it tomorrow as he begged Dan’s key off of Alyssa. How desperate he must have been, to risk something so brazen on a foreign trip.

Dan nudges Jon’s foot with his knee and plays his part. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Jon stirs, his eyelashes fluttering on Dan’s pillow. He has the grace, at least, to look embarrassed as he catches Dan’s gaze and shrugs, his muscles rippling under the sheet. “Shit, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?”

“After midnight.” Dan raises an eyebrow. “And what did you intend to do? In my hotel room.”

“It was a key switch-up?” Jon tries, then, “I needed a change of scenery? Best way to get over writer’s block, right?”

Dan snorts. He can think of a few others. “Nude writing is a new one, though.”

“The nudity came after,” Jon admits, rolling over, slow enough for Dan to watch the sheet pull and loosen around his thighs. It falls as Jon sits up, pooling in his lap, doing nothing to hide the bulge of Jon’s dick between his bent thighs. He rests his elbows on his knees, dropping his neck so that Dan can see the flush spread down his spine and his chest as he admits, quietly. “I’m not done with the drug speech.”

Dan raises an eyebrow as he reaches down to undo his belt. Jon flinches at the clink of metal. “The speech POTUS is giving _tomorrow afternoon_?”

Jon nods, his hair falling over his forehead. It’s loose and soft, like he’s worked all the gel out with his fingers as he tugged at it for inspiration. “I don’t know any other drug speeches POTUS is giving.”

Dan’s temple pounds with the beginning of a headache and he slides his belt out of the loops, slapping the end against his palm with a slick, heavy sound. “I can go ask Alyssa for the key to your room.”

“No,” Jon says, quickly. His knees fall to the bed as he leans towards Dan, his dick slapping against his stomach as the sheet drops further. Jon’s eyes are red and rimmed in dark circles. “_Please_.”

“Yeah.” Dan drops one knee to the bed and pushes against Jon’s chest until he’s leaning flush back against the pillows. “We can’t let the President stand up in front of ten South American leaders with a blank sheet of paper.”

Jon shakes his head quickly, his eyes dropping to follow Dan’s hand as it trails slowly down his chest. “That would be embarrassing.”

Dan nods, tracing Jon’s flush with the tips of his fingers, feeling his chest jump and twitch towards Dan’s gentle, calloused touch. “You know a little something about that, don’t you?”

Jon groans, “_Dan_,” sucking in his stomach as Dan flattens his palm and drops it lower, over the contours of his hips and around, over Jon’s lingering summer tan and sliding under Jon’s dick to tug at the patch of curls, dark against the pale strip of skin.

“Answer me.” Dan tugs again, his fingers threading through the coarse curls.

Jon chokes, his knees pressing into the mattress, pulling the sheet halfway down his thighs. “Writer’s block is embarrassing. I feel like I’ve lost a limb. My most important one.”

Dan chuckles, turning his hand so he can wrap his fingers loosely around Jon’s dick. He jerks him once, awkward at this angle. “I might differ with that last bit, but, point taken.”

Jon groans, his back arching against the pillows and his hands twisting into Dan’s shirt to hold himself up. “_Dan, _please, fucking _help me_.”

“Shh.” Dan shifts his weight, pressing further into Jon and adjusting his grip. He gives a testing jerk, his own dick twitching heavily in his pants as Jon’s jumps, the head mushrooming purple and red and thick. “I’ve got you, Jon. Lay back.”

Dan feels the moment when Jon gives in, every muscle in his body going slack as he succumbs to Dan, everything but the steel of his dick in Dan’s palm and the twitch of his thighs as he jerks in short, desperate bursts into Dan’s fist. Dan relishes the enormity of it, the responsibility Jon hands over to him, the trust Jon has that Dan will make it right.

Dan presses his free hand on the tops of Jon’s thighs, “none of that. I can’t give you what you need if you’re fighting me.”

“I can’t-” Jon trembles, his thighs warm and flushed as they butterfly under Dan’s touch. “I don’t know how.”

“You do.” Dan jerks Jon again, once, twice, a third time, hard and tight and out of sync with Jon’s thrusts until he feels Jon loosen, melting into the mattress. Dan leans forward, his own thigh straining to keep his balance. “See? I knew you had it in you.”

“_Dan_,” Jon cries, strangled and broken and Dan turns his head to kiss him, burying the sounds Jon makes before they can filter through the too thin walls separating his room from whichever unfortunate communications staffer was booked next to him.

Dan loves the way Jon responds to him when he’s like this. The way Jon’s feet press, instinctively, into the mattress, his toes sliding under Dan’s calf and pressing upwards. The way Jon’s steady stream of whines and groans slide down Dan’s throat, rhythmic and sensual. The way Jon’s dick twitches and weeps, chasing Dan’s hand.

Dan grins into Jon’s mouth as he wraps his first around Jon’s head, his thumb catching under the ridge and his palm twisting around the tip. Jon whimpers into Dan’s mouth, his dick leaking enough precum into Dan’s hand to coat his palm. 

“Perfect,” Dan whispers, kissing Jon’s jaw and up to his ear to bite at his ear lobe. “So perfect, Jon.”

Dan twists again, then spreads his fingers to jerk down. His hand is slick, now, his way eased, and he quickens his pace until the room is filled only with the harsh gasps of Jon’s breath and the slap of skin on skin.

Jon gasps, the push of his thighs the only warning Dan gets before it rushes through his body, curling his shoulders inwards and rippling through his stomach muscles. Dan just gets his mouth on Jon’s to swallow the sounds as Jon’s dick pulses between his fingers, impossibly hot as he coats them.

Dan works him through it and keeps working him even as Jon’s body starts to tighten, trying to shy away from him. Dan shakes his head, keeping a steady rhythm as Jon’s dick softens and shrinks to fit into the warmth of Dan’s palm and his body sinks back into the mattress with a heavy sigh.

Dan pulls his tongue back, closing his lips into a chaste kiss as he lifts up, resting Jon’s dick in the crook of his thigh and shifting his weight away. “Okay?”

“Hmm?” Jon blinks his eyes open, his pupils dark and dilated. He swallows, rolling unsteadily onto his side. He reaches a loose, shaking hand towards Dan and Dan snorts, pushing Jon’s hand away.

“Just watch,” Dan orders, as he sits on the edge of the other bed and pops the button on his dress pants. His boxers are already wet, his dick hot where it’s hard against his belly. He hopes he has enough pairs in his suitcase to not live through the humiliation of asking a staffer to dry-clean them. What’s done is already done, though, and he doesn’t do anymore than undo the zipper and pull himself out through the fly.

Jon makes a noise, shifting onto his elbow, circulation already returning to his limbs as he struggles to get a better view.

Dan chokes, feeling his muscles tense, already, arousal pooling in the base of his spine and the tops of his thigh. His balls are tight, pulling up and inwards, disappearing into his boxers as Dan grips himself with his right hand, still covered with Jon’s cum to slick his way.

“This is going to be quick,” Dan warns him, gasping into his own fist. “But next time, I might let you taste me.”

Jon groans, his eyes searching for and catching Dan’s. His pupils are shrinking, but his cheeks are flushed and he reaches down to cup himself, wincing at how soft and sensitive he is.

Dan whines, loud enough for Jon to hear but not loud enough to make it through the walls, and drops his fist to the base of his dick so that Jon can see him come, pulsing long and hard over his boxers and pants.

“Fuck,” Jon whimpers, tugging, hard, at his own dick as he sits up. “Fuck, _Dan_.”

Dan chuckles, wiping his hand on the blanket next to him, before sliding onto shaking knees and crossing to Jon. He pulls Jon into a kiss, filthy and deep and something Jon can take with him. “I’d ask you to shower-”

“- but I have a speech to write,” Jon finishes for him. He slides up and steps around Dan to gather his clothes. He pulls his pants on, leaving them loose around his hips, and drapes his shirt open over his shoulders, and steps back to give Dan a chaste kiss. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Dan promises. Behind Jon’s shoulder, the clock blinks 1:14 in big, mocking, neon colors. “I’ll be up in a couple hours to read it over.”

Jon nods, pulling his laptop under his arm and grabbing his shoes to dangle in his fingers. “It’ll be in your inbox.”

Dan nods, already falling back against the mattress. “Breakfast at 5?”

Dan doesn’t wait for an answer before he closes his eyes. If he sleeps now, he can get a full three hours before his alarm goes off. As he hears the door click quietly shut behind Jon, Dan rolls over, not bothering to do more than kick his pants off before pulling the sheet over himself and drifting off.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos, as always, appreciated! And come find me on [tumblr](https://stainyourhands.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat!


End file.
